How Losing My Identity Led Me to Find Myself
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How Losing My Identity Led Me to Find Myself
There are moments in life that divide your story into "before" and "after." May 2023 was mine.
I had just landed in Miami with my husband for what should have been a celebration of another successful year and our 15 year wedding anniversary. The email notification chimed on my phone as we entered the baggage claim, the quarterly rankings were in.
The year before, I had generated nearly $900,000 in revenue for my firm. I was a star performer, someone others could look up to, the definition of professional success.
This time? $35,000. Dead last.
I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed.
But what I didn't know in that moment of complete devastation was that God was about to give me the greatest gift of my life: the death of my false identity and the birth of my true self.
For 17 years, I had built my entire sense of worth around being "Laura King, the Executive Recruiter". I was the high achiever, the overachiever, the one who got results no matter what.
Sound familiar?
If you're a high-performing professional reading this, you probably know exactly what I mean.
We build these identities around our roles, our achievements, our external metrics of success. We become human doings instead of human beings.
I had been trapped in what I now call the "performance prison," where your worth is only as good as your last achievement, your value only as stable as your most recent success.
The problem with building your identity on external accomplishments is that when those accomplishments, or jobs, disappear (and they always do, eventually), you're left wondering who you are underneath it all.
That ranking email didn't just hurt my ego. It shattered my entire sense of self. If I wasn't the “best”, then who was I?
The months that followed were the most challenging and transformative of my life. I had to face the reality that I had been so focused on ‘doing’ that I had forgotten how to simply ‘be’ me.
Through therapy, neurofeedback, journaling, and countless conversations with God (and I mean, countless), I began to understand that this breakdown wasn't a punishment. This was my invitation.
An invitation to discover who I was beneath all the titles, achievements, and external validation.
At that moment, I realized I had been carrying generations of "achievement addiction." My need to perform didn't even originate with me!!! It had been passed down through family lines, each generation doing their best but unconsciously passing along the belief that worth must be earned.
The real transformation began when I started asking different questions:
Instead of "How can I achieve more?" I asked, "Who am I when I'm not achieving?"
Instead of "What do I need to do?" I asked, "What does my soul need?"
Instead of "How can I be successful?" I asked, "How can I be present?"
These questions led me to a profound realization: I am not what I do. I am not my achievements. I am not my revenue numbers.
I am love. I am joy. I am me. I am the story that's unfolding.
Today, I measure success differently. Instead of looking at external metrics, I ask myself:
How much time did I spend fully present today?
Did I make decisions from love or from fear?
Was I authentic in my interactions?
Did I listen to my inner wisdom?
The most amazing thing happened when I shifted these metrics: my external success actually increased. Not because I was chasing it, but because I was aligned with my true self. Me. Good ole me.
When you operate from presence instead of performance, from flow instead of force, magic happens. The right opportunities appear. The right people find you. Everything becomes easier because you're swimming downstream instead of fighting the current.
If you're someone who has built your identity around your achievements, I want you to know:
You are not your job title. You are not your revenue numbers. You are not your last performance review. You are not even your greatest successes.
You are so much more than what you do.
Your worth was established long before you achieved anything, and it will remain long after your achievements are forgotten.
The most courageous thing you can do is get quiet enough to remember who you are beneath all the doing.
Maybe you're in your own version of that Miami baggage claim moment right now. Maybe your breakdown is calling you toward your breakthrough.
If so, I want you to know this isn't the end of your story. It's the beginning of the most important chapter you'll ever write.
The chapter where you discover that you are not what you do. You are who you are.
And who you are is more than enough.
What false identity are you ready to release? What would it feel like to define yourself by your being instead of your doing? The journey inward is the most important journey you'll ever take.
With deep belief in your magnificence,
Laura